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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28803843">Miscommunication</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/superalk/pseuds/superalk'>superalk</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hawkeye Timeline [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Deaf Clint Barton, Dramatic Irony, Hurt Clint Barton, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Clint Barton, Multiple Perspectives, One Shot, Origin Story, Past Child Abuse, hurt barney barton, kid barney barton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:54:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,490</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28803843</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/superalk/pseuds/superalk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>My attempt to write/retcon a comic-like origin for Clint Barton that also fits with MCU Clint. </p><p>This story addresses why Barney and Clint split up at Carson's Circus, and shows the events from Barney's perspective, then Clint's.  </p><p>There is considerable implied nastiness in Clint's and Barney's backgrounds (child abuse, child sexual abuse), but nothing explicitly stated. There is explicit, canon-typical violence in Barney's section.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hawkeye Timeline [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2257877</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Miscommunication</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>Deliberation</h3><p>Clint was shocked and angry to hear his brother talk about Trick Shot and the Swordsman that way. "They gave us work!" He snapped, as if it hadn't been Barney who had gotten their attention in the first place when they'd joined Carson’s circus, hadn't known anyone, and had nearly been kicked right back out again.</p><p><br/>
Barney had been spotted picking the pocket of a husband while he told a joke to the wife.</p><p><br/>
Fortunately for Barney, it was the Swordsman who'd spotted the theft, and he'd brought both Barton brothers before Trick Shot, to request to train them both.</p><p><br/>
Clint knew the memory shouldn't still sting, especially given what had happened two days ago, but it did. He should've thought to do that, not waited for Barney to do it.</p><p><br/>
Barney rolled his eyes like he thought Clint was the biggest idiot in the world, which, he did, when his younger brother acted like this. "I know that, dummy, but stop thinking about that bow for two seconds and use your head. You're friends with Bee so I know you've heard the rumors."</p><p><br/>
Clint scowled, and scuffed his ratty shoe into the hay of the loft where he and Barney had huddled together for a moment of privacy. When they'd first come to Carson's, the loft had been tall enough for them to stand and move freely. Now Clint felt a little cramped just standing up there.</p><p><br/>
He had heard the rumors, of course. Bee was one of the trapeze artists, and she'd been working with Trick Shot for awhile. Since Clint was Trick Shot's newest special trainee, Clint had been around Bee a lot more than Barney had.</p><p><br/>
Clint didn't like some of the comments Bee had made during training, when he asked how she'd bruised her leg when he'd never seen her fall, or why she always kept her arms covered up even though it was so hot.</p><p>They reminded Clint of the excuses he and Barney had given, at their foster homes and back when their parents had been alive.</p><p>"How do you know anyway?" Clint demanded. He knew he was being a dick, rubbing in the fact that Trick Shot had asked Clint to be the next Hawkeye, when Barney had been training with the Swordsman for the same amount of time, but he wanted to change the subject. (It was also a real question - Barney somehow always seemed to know everything from everyone, a skill Clint, even with improved hearing aids since he'd been promoted to special trainee of Trick Shot, had yet to master.)</p><p>Barney ruffled Clint's hair, even though Clint swore at him, because Barney loved his brother, and Clint let him, because he loved Barney too.</p><p>"You forget that I'm shit at shooting but I make up for it by being prettier than you." Barney's voice was full of casual confidence, despite how his words made Clint swear at him some more, then laugh. Barney was talking about getting passed over for Hawkeye. The previous Hawkeye had vanished, one day fine, next day missing from his tent, and when the Swordsman had spoken to Trick Shot, Clint had been chosen as the next Hawkeye.</p><p>"I'm pretty, so people talk to me when I lie and say things like, 'Nice to see you again,' or 'So glad to be here.'" Barney batted his eyelashes until Clint was giggling in earnest, and then in typical Barney fashion, he ruined it.</p><p>"But even I haven't been invited to any extra special meetings just with Trick Shot, and I'm not happy to hear that you've been going." Barney aimed a swipe at Clint's head that Clint easily dodged (Barney hadn't been trying very hard, but Clint's training with the Swordsman had really been ramping up in the last few days).</p><p>Something uncomfortable twinged in Clint's stomach. "Bee told me to take a knife, but I didn't need it." He looked away from his brother as he said it, because he could guess Barney's reaction.</p><p>Barney was even madder than Clint had imagined he would be. He lunged forward (preferring to sit in the loft than standing in a crouch) and grabbed Clint by the shoulders to shake him a little and stare into his face. "What?! When? You didn't tell me?! Why?"</p><p>So complete was Barney's agitation that he released Clint to use the ASL signs for the questions.</p><p>Clint smiled despite himself. It had been a while since he'd made Barney so mad that he'd switched to ASL to make sure Clint had to answer back.</p><p>"Yesterday, cause you were busy running those shills. And I said I didn't need the knife, are you the one who's deaf now?" Clint signed his answers as he spoke, as natural as breathing.</p><p>Clint was always happy when he could make Barney smile with his jokes, which he managed this time. It was most of the reason he made jokes, these days, was to try to catch the people around him off guard to make them happy.</p><p>Barney signed just as easily as Clint did. They'd learned together, when Clint was 7 and Barney 11. Clint had refused to sign with anyone but Barney, who'd finally been the one to draw him back to the real world. "Fuck," he used the swear word in ASL, which always made Clint laugh. "We can't stay here, brother. If Bee says bring a knife, it's too dangerous. We left the Parcell house and the Johnson house, we'll leave here too." Barney spoke and signed as well.</p><p>Clint flinched at the memory of the Johnson house. It had been the foster home to convince him and Barney that they'd be better off on their own. At least the Parcell house had just been more of what their dad had done to them. The Johnson house had been much, much worse.</p><p>Barney nodded. He hadn't been able to keep his younger brother safe at the Johnson house, and he understood now that he couldn't keep him safe here, either. "I have a plan-"</p><p>Clint's laughter interrupted him, along with several very rude signs. "You always have a plan, Bozo." Clint's name sign for Barney had been 'clown' with a B for as long as he could remember. It had seemed a very clever joke, when he'd been 7.</p><p>Barney signed a few rude things back until Clint, including the sarcastic name sign he used for Clint, the sign for 'smart' with a derisive smile on his face, ending the sign in a C.</p><p>Clint snorted, and lowered his hands to shut up so Barney could tell his plan.</p><p>Barney switched to ASL. 'I have evidence of Trick Shot using Javelynn to help him commit a crime.'</p><p>Clint gasped as Barney spelled out Lynn's codename, but quickly muffled himself as Barney continued.</p><p>'Javelynn, Bee, Bobcat, and Albino, at least are all involved. So is Trick Shot. I have proof, and a motorcycle I stole. Tomorrow, dawn, we get out of here.'</p><p>Clint felt his eyes bug out in his head. This was a real plan, not the kind of 'one day, when we're out of here' stupid he was used to having to listen to from his older brother.</p><p>Clint wasn't sure how to nicely bring up his only real argument to the plan, so he just said 'Bobcat is awful.'</p><p>Barney glared at him. 'What do you mean awful?'</p><p>Clint winced, and backtracked to explain, hands flying as he tripped over his words. 'I didn't need the knife during my meeting with Trick Shot which is true but then he called in Bobcat who brought Foxx and Trick Shot was telling me that his number one rule is that he doesn't accept betrayal and-' Clint had to look at Barney, had to do something because his hands had started to shake when he started but now they were shaking so bad he couldn't get the rest of the story out.</p><p>Barney just waited. He'd been the only person to always be patient with Clint, always waited for him, no matter how long it took, when everyone else, even Mom, had done things for him. Barney always believed Clint was in there, and was smart enough to answer, and always waited for him to be ready.</p><p>Clint took a few breaths and continued despite his shakes. "-Bobcat beat Foxx real bad. Even if she'd had a knife, it wouldn't matter. She even got to fight Bobcat, to fight back, Trick Shot told her she could, but it didn't matter.'</p><p>Barney gripped Clint's arms in what felt like a hug in the small space. 'That's why we gotta get the fuck outta here, brother.'</p><p>Not even the obscene sign could make Clint smile.</p><p>Barney reached over again and pulled his brother into a hug.</p><p>Clint, still shaking, let him do it.</p><p>"Dawn," Barney said aloud. "Dawn by the back gate. We're getting the fuck outta here."</p><p> </p>
<h3>Perception</h3><p>Clint could barely sleep. All he could see was Foxx's bloody body as Albino came to fetch her from Trick Shot's presence.</p><p>Trick Shot had been nice to Clint, telling him what Foxx had done wrong, how he could avoid that same fate. He believed in Clint. He knew he could do it.</p><p>Clint heard his father's words, and even worse, Mr. Johnson's words, in Trick Shot’s words, and had not been able to sleep. He hadn't slept well at all since that night in Trick Shot's tent two days ago.</p><p>He was up at dawn, but Foxx found him as he was about to leave his tent.</p><p>"Hey, Hawkeye, ask you a favor?"</p><p>Clint winced in sympathy at Foxx's cracked voice, but he froze as he adjusted his backpack and looked up at her.</p><p>Foxx's face was swollen, and someone, probably Albino, had wrapped one arm in a cloth sling. Albino had helped Clint, a few days before, with some stretches for his arms and shoulders. He had never made fun of Clint or called him slow, like many of the other carnies had.</p><p>Foxx limped as she took a step into his tent.</p><p>Clint felt uncomfortable just being so close to Foxx after everything Trick Shot had said about her.</p><p>Still, he knew how it felt to be beat up. He slid his canteen from his backpack and offered it to her.</p><p>Foxx's eyes widened, but she accepted it and sipped, her eyes widening in surprise at the taste.</p><p>Clint rubbed the back of his head. "Mint, growin’ in a patch near the front gate."</p><p>Foxx's eyes widened a little more, but then she handed the canteen back and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Thanks. Uh, I was wonderin if I could crash here for awhile.”</p><p>Clint frowned and looked around his tent. Trick Shot had given him a bigger tent when he’d accepted the Hawkeye title, which meant 1) that he no longer shared the tent with Barney, even though he hadn’t minded that, and 2) he did have a bit of extra room. He had his pallet of blankets, a little table, lamp, a few accumulated books, and some weapons the Swordsman had told him to keep nearby at all times. There was definitely room for another sleeping bag near the entrance to the tent.</p><p>You’ll want to make sure you follow the rules, not to end up like her. Trick Shot’s voice seemed to rise from the very air of the tent, and his cold voice after Bobcat had beaten Foxx made Clint shiver despite the warm morning air.</p><p>“You not have any place to sleep?” Clint couldn’t think of another reason why she’d be asking him. She’d known he was there the other day with Trick Shot and Bobcat, and she had to have seen that he hadn’t done anything to help her as she was getting thrashed. He wouldnta forgiven him, if he was her.</p><p>He felt so guilty he hadn’t been able to sleep, so surely she was angry, given as bad as she must feel with all the bruising he could see.</p><p>Foxx shrugged, twisting her fingers together and looking away from him.</p><p>Clint wondered if the Swordsman treated Foxx the same way he treated Clint. He’d started swatting Clint in the head with his glove when Clint fidgeted, and it hadn’t taken long for Clint to stop doing that. Maybe he didn't swat Foxx in the head when she fidgeted.</p><p>“Uh, they got me sharing a tent with Bobcat til I smarten up.” Foxx’s voice was a squeak.</p><p>Clint’s stomach lurched in horror at the idea. “For serious?” He heard himself ask. There was no way he was actually going to say yes to her, he told himself, as if he rushed to reassure the cold voice of Trick Shot in his head, but the idea of sharing a tent with the guy who’d thrashed you was too much for Clint to bear. It gave him the crawls, and his mind jumped automatically to his room next to Mr. and Mrs. Johnson’s.</p><p>Foxx grimaced and looked away. “For serious. It’s fine, you know, I shoulda asked Albino first…” She turned to leave.</p><p>Clint interrupted before she could move. “No, wait. Sure, Foxx. That’s fine. I got plenty a’ room.” Albino was old too, like Bobcat, closer to Trick Shot’s age than Clint’s or Foxx’s age. Clint couldn’t imagine that she’d want to stay with either one of them. The idea of his having to stay in either man’s tent made nausea roll in Clint’s stomach, and helped him ignore the ghost of Trick Shot’s cold voice in his mind.</p><p>Foxx’s entire face lit up. “Thanks Hawkeye. I won’t let you down, promise.”</p><p>Clint waved her thanks away. He hadn’t slept hardly at all the night before, and he doubted he’d be able to ever again if he turned her away.</p><p>Besides, he reminded himself with a jolt. He was leaving. He was gonna join Barney by the back gate and they were gonna get out of here. It didn’t matter what he told Foxx. She could have his tent, when he was gone.</p><p>Clint spared a thought for the incredible Hawkeye bow in the Swordsman’s tent, then shook his head. Barney had left plenty of nice stuff behind from the Johnsons, and he’d let it go without a second thought to protect Clint. Clint could let go even as beautiful a bow as the Hawkeye one.</p><p>“I gotta go. See you round, Foxx.” Clint brushed past Foxx and headed towards the back gate.</p><p>Albino met Clint before Clint even reached the back gate. “Hey kid, don’t go back there.”</p><p>Clint had been ready for a lot of comments or questions, but the painful look on Albino’s face was not something Clint had been prepared for. “Huh?” Clint asked, and the excuse he’d planned was already out of his mouth. “I’m going to collect some mint for my canteen, Al, it’s no big deal, I’ll be right back.”</p><p>Albino shook his head and put his arm around Clint’s shoulders. “Stay here, kid. Trust me.”</p><p>Clint shrugged off the shoulder, disliking the contact and wanting to get closer to the gate. It was suspicious that Albino was already here, but that was okay, he could almost see the back gate from here… He got a few steps closer to see that the back gate was partially open, and someone already stood there.</p><p>“...I have no idea what he was into.” Trick Shot’s deep voice was uncharacteristically quiet, but the humid air was still enough that his voice still carried to Clint as he pushed through the gate.</p><p>He froze as he saw that Trick Shot stood before a huge pool of blood. Clint gasped out loud before he could think that he might want to keep quiet.</p><p>Trick Shot turned quickly. “Damnit, Al,” he snapped. “You were supposed to keep Hawkeye out of here.”</p><p>Clint had seen blood before, but never this much blood. He had an awful feeling, but he wasn’t sure exactly what the feeling was. Just that he felt like he was frozen to the spot, like snow had come in June just to where Clint stood.</p><p>Trick Shot crouched down next to Clint, and Clint was so frozen in place that he forgot to be surprised by this move.</p><p>“Hey, Hawkeye. I’m sorry you have to see this.” Trick Shot’s voice was quieter than Clint had ever heard it.</p><p>Clint slowly turned his head to see where Trick Shot’s glance darted to, and when he realized what he was looking at, (wait were those the trick fingers used by the performers? No there weren’t pieces of loose skin on those - oh no those weren’t trick fingers, and he knew the lumpy finger with the cut in it-) he turned and threw up in the gravel road that was on this side of the gate.</p><p>Clint shook his head and pushed away the water bottle someone offered him. He turned until he faced Trick Shot, who had stood again to give Clint space. “What-” Clint’s stomach heaved again, this time thinking about how calmly Trick Shot had let Bobcat beat Foxx, but he swallowed his revulsion again and forced himself to ask the question as his hands and arms shook. “What happened?”</p><p>The awful feeling in Clint’s stomach deepened, as if telling him he already knew, but Clint had to hear it out loud.</p><p>Trick Shot had something in his open palm.</p><p>Clint felt like his heart stopped in his chest, and he turned to retch again off to the side, not wanting to sick up onto Trick Shot.</p><p>There was nothing left in Clint’s stomach to throw up, so he wiped his mouth and took the tiny blue gemstone that Trick Shot offered.</p><p>Barney had lifted a tiny pouch of uncut diamonds from a mark’s pocket, and although he’d given all the diamonds to Trick Shot, he’d kept a tiny blue stone, small enough to fit on his thumbnail. It was the precise color of Barney’s eyes, the same color eyes as their Mom had had.</p><p>“Blue velvet sapphire,” Trick Shot said, a quiet chuckle in his voice. “These are very rare.”</p><p>Clint’s eyes involuntarily flooded with tears. Barney had kept it in his pocket, for luck, he’d claimed. It must have shaken loose when -</p><p>Clint forced himself not to look back up at the bloody, sodden patch of ground where those fingers had been.</p><p>“You two were meeting up here?” Trick Shot’s voice was still quiet.</p><p>Clint startled to look at his mentor, the way he’d liked them to look at him when he talked, and to see that he was again crouched down beside him. Clint swallowed his unease and nodded. “Yessir.” He hitched his backpack, feeling like everyone could tell he’d brought all his things and was planning to leave. Instead, Trick Shot looked at him with pain on his face. “Gonna talk about me bein’ the new Hawkeye,” Clint lied easily.</p><p>The lie wasn’t hard. Clint had practiced it, after all. Still, Clint’s voice caught in his throat, and he looked away before sniffing and looking back. “Sorry, sir.” He’d already forgotten what Trick Shot had told him to do.</p><p>Trick Shot patted Clint’s shoulder. “Not your fault, Hawkeye. Somebody must have been waiting for him. Albino heard shouting, and brought me.”</p><p>Clint shook his head, and pretended to wipe his face to give him a chance to glance around. The motorcycle was still there, visible behind some bushes. There was even more blood, now that he looked around a little more. He gritted his teeth.</p><p>Clint had seen blood before, but this was far more than he’d ever seen. He hiccupped as he struggled not to let the grasping feeling of panic overwhelm him, his breath hitching painfully in his chest.</p><p>Trick Shot patted his shoulder, and stood up, tugging Clint away from the scene. “C’mon, Hawkeye. Let’s get some breakfast in you before you pass out. You keep that blue velvet, by the way. It's not going to the group’s winnings. Everybody should have a keepsake when family passes.”</p><p>Clint’s breathing shuddered through him, but there was nothing to do. He couldn’t leave now, without his brother. Where would he go? Why go anywhere, with Barney gone? His mom, now Barney. Everyone Clint had ever cared about was dead.</p><p>Clint felt like he was encased in ice, stuck, as that thought echoed in his mind. He might have stood in the grass forever, alone.</p><p>The image of the gorgeous Hawkeye bow suddenly gleamed in his mind’s eye. Clint’s feet unthawed.</p><p>He wasn’t alone, not really. He was Hawkeye. He had a bow to earn.</p><p>He pressed the blue velvet sapphire into his palm and thought about that purple bow.</p><p>Clint let Trick Shot turn him, and lead him back through the gate towards camp.</p><p> </p><p>Clint Barton gasped awake, requiring a few seconds to re-orient himself to time and place.</p><p>He was in his apartment in Washington, D.C. He was an agent of SHIELD. He’d taken out one of Trick Shot’s eyes when he’d left his service. He was a free man.</p><p>Clint wiped water from his face, not sure how his face had gotten so sweaty while the rest of him was ice-cold.</p><p>He reached for something on the end-table next to his bed, and rolled his eyes a little as he felt the grip of the Glock instead of the smaller thing he was groping to find.</p><p>He nearly knocked the tiny speck of blue velvet sapphire off the night table before finding it.</p><p>Clint rolled the gemstone between his fingers, soothed as he always was by the way the facets felt on the calluses on his fingertips and palm.</p><p>Barney was gone.</p><p>No matter how many times Clint dreamed of their last conversation, or that morning, he could never work out a way to save his brother before someone plucked him out of thin air like a taut bowstring, snuffing him out like a candle.</p><p>Still, the smooth gemstone with its startlingly blue color reminded Clint that Barney wasn’t all gone. His wariness and determination had always stuck with Clint, had kept Clint thinking about himself as a person worth protecting, not just a nobody kid to beat on.</p><p>Clint also had Barney to thank for much of his social acumen, not to mention his knowledge and pride in ASL.</p><p>Sighing, the stone passing familiarly through Clint’s fingertips, Clint slowly calmed, and eventually, setting the gem just so back on his night stand, returned to sleep.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<h3>Reality</h3><p><br/>
Barney Barton could barely sleep. He was too busy laying plans. If this was going to work, he had to think of everything.</p><p>Motorcycle was hidden in the foliage and bushes, beyond the back gate. He kept the key with him, so no one could steal it even if they found it.</p><p>Their leverage was safely tucked away. Trick Shot couldn’t torture the proof and paperwork out of Barney even if he wanted to. Barney had given it to a friend in the city.</p><p>Well, the friend was an ex-carnie called Bullit, and city was the edge of town, but it was someone who hated Carson, and since Carson was the one profiting from Trick Shot’s enterprise, Barney thought that would have to do.</p><p>He had even scavenged a rusted revolver from a supply tent, and had traded some cigarettes he’d stolen for a single bullet for it. Barney had no idea what he could accomplish with a single bullet, but if Barney had learned nothing else over the course of his life, it was that you never knew what would come in handy.</p><p>Revolver in hand, Barney was pretty sure he got a couple hours of sleep.</p><p>An hour before dawn, backpack on, keys to the bike in one pocket, revolver tucked in his other pocket, with his right hand on the grip, Barney left his tent unseen, or so he’d thought.</p><p>Some part of Barney’s adult mind always knew it was a dream, as he weaved between tents, but he always screamed at his younger self, willing him to veer right through the tents, to go and get his little brother from his tent rather than waiting for him in the open field.</p><p>Go get him, Barney tries to tell himself. You’re less than a quarter mile from him, who cares if someone sees, go get him!</p><p>Try as he did, adult-Barney could never remember why he hadn’t thought to go get Clint before he left the camp. And no matter how often he had this dream, he could never make his memory-self change course now.</p><p>What was done was done.</p><p>Barney picked his way through the dark and unmoving tents of this side of camp, and his bribe to Scrum had paid off, he’d left the back gate unlocked.</p><p>Barney was in the clearing, he could see the bike under a cover of leaves, he was so close, when a low whistle caught his attention.</p><p>It wasn’t a sound Clint would make, but it was so surprising, so clearly human, so clearly trying not to be overheard, that Barney reacted automatically, reacting first before thinking.</p><p>Barney may have reacted without pulling the gun from his pocket, but a lifetime of dodging blows and anticipating violence kept him alive. Barney pulled his other hand, the hand with the bike key, from his pocket as he turned, instinctively raising that hand to eye level to protect himself.</p><p>The knife that sliced soundlessly through the air bit into Barney’s hand and fingers before cutting into his neck instead of killing him instantly.</p><p>Shock and survival instinct clamped down on the pure horror of watching his pinky and ring fingers hit the ground, and Barney clamped his mangled right hand over the cut in his throat. A jugular cut. Someone had been trying to kill him.</p><p>That someone was Trick Shot, wielding what was more like a machete than a knife.</p><p>The man had slid out of Barney’s range, but his eyebrows were raised in surprise as Barney stayed on his feet. “I’m impressed,” the man admitted, wiping Barney’s blood from his weapon with a cloth from his pocket. “The Swordsman didn’t give you nearly enough credit.”</p><p>Barney ignored the icy cruelty in Trick Shot’s voice and reminded himself that the cut in his throat was not deep, and he had to play his leverage here if he was going to keep himself and his brother alive. “You kill me, and my friend sends evidence from your sick wooden box to the FBI in Chicago.”</p><p>Adult Barney was always impressed by this bluff, looking back at it. Shocked and nearly killed, Barney was lying out his ass. Bullitt was always drunk or high, or both, and had never promised to take anything to the FBI.</p><p>Barney’s bluff had worked.</p><p>Trick Shot raised his eyebrows, but carefully sheathed his machete. “You’re already dead. Your words now determine if your brother sees your body or not. Choose carefully”</p><p>Panic washed over Barney, but he saw Trick Shot’s stance shift, and he knew what he’d seen in that box. “You kill me, an' everybody finds out what a sicko you are. You wanna keep your crime ring, fine. But me an’ Clint walk outta here else your own people’ll kill you for what you done.”</p><p>Trick Shot took a step towards Barney, and although he dropped his hand back to his machete, he did not draw it. “I don’t know what you think you have-”</p><p>Barney knew how to read people, and he knew the look of fear on the man’s face, so he risked interrupting. “Photos. Lots of 'em.”</p><p>Trick Shot did not take another step, and Barney knew he had him.</p><p>Trick Shot chuckled. “You’re smarter than me or Jacques gave you credit for. I knew you broke in, but I wanted to see what you did with the information you stole.” He leaned a little closer. “But you’re too slow, and not even those pictures are worth to me what your brother is gonna fetch me.”</p><p>Barney had the gun out in a flash, and aimed it right at Trick Shot’s chest. “Maybe I kill you right now.” Barney’s voice shook, but his hold on the revolver did not. He cocked the hammer back with his thumb. “And we’ll see who’s smart.”</p><p>Trick Shot chuckled. “Smarter and bolder. You shoot me with that thing, you wake up the whole camp. Bobcat takes over the operation in my stead, and you know what we do here to the kin of traitors?”</p><p>Barney sucked in a breath as he remembered those photos.</p><p>Trick Shot nodded. “Unless you want that for your brother, you won’t shoot me. Besides, you shoot me, you die. You run, you might make it to the highway, might find someone to help before you bleed to death.”</p><p>Adult-Barney nearly goes mad at this moment, every time he has this dream. Like he’s stuck in his kid body, like he’s an adult paralyzed with indecision in a scared, half-dead teenager’s body.</p><p>Shoot him in the leg.</p><p>Fire in the air and wake Clint.</p><p>Scream Clint’s name.</p><p>Shoot yourself to end this fuckin’ nightmare already.</p><p>Trick Shot, with the cool experience of someone who has done a lot of negotiating from that end of the barrel of a weapon, senses Barney’s hesitation at his offer. “That’s right. You make it to the highway, get help. Make a new life for yourself. But if I ever even think I see your shadow, I tell your brother you abandoned him and I cripple him as punishment for your abandonment. You want a new life for yourself and a future for him? You fuck off and forget all of this.”</p><p>Barney’s stomach heaved, but it was getting hard to concentrate, with black eating at the edges of his vision and his breathing too loud in his own ears. “I’m going to shoot you now, and give Clint a fighting chance against Bobcat.” He could barely hold onto the pistol, but the words out loud helped him keep his grip and keep his feet under him.</p><p>Trick Shot shook his head. “Bobcat would kill Clint today, you know that. But tomorrow, or next week, or next month?” He shrugged. “You wanna doom your brother to a slow punishment today, or let him live out his potential? He’s got something special, even you can see that. You want him whole enough to see it, or a shell of a kid too broken to be anything?”</p><p>Barney wavered so much on his feet he thought he was falling over, but caught himself at the last second, keeping the gun trained on Trick Shot.</p><p>Trick Shot shook his head. “You better decide fast. You collapse in front of me, and I’m gonna tell Clint you left without him.”</p><p>Barney gagged, his entire body revolting at the mere idea as black and white spots ate at his vision and the ground seemed to buck and roll beneath him.</p><p>Trick Shot nodded. “Or you leave now, I tell him you were killed, and he gets a keepsake to remember you by. He gets to be Hawkeye, you get to take your leverage and fuck off to live another day.”</p><p>Shoot him! Adult Barney hears himself scream, plead, beg, every time he has this dream.</p><p>Shoot him in the face, he’s bluffing! He won’t maim Clint, it’s a bluff, a lie!</p><p>Barney reached down with his bloody hand and tossed a blue gem into the dirt. He kept the gun trained on Trick Shot as he dissolved into the woods.</p><p>As soon as Barney was out of view of Trick Shot, he dropped the gun, pressed both hands as tight against his neck as he could, and ran towards Bullitt’s house.</p><p>Bullitt was passed out when Barney got there, but Barney wrapped his neck in cloth and pressed the bloody stumps of his fingers on the still- warm hot plate before collapsing in a heap.</p><p> </p><p>Barney Barton gasped awake, requiring a few seconds to re-orient himself to time and place.</p><p>He was in his cot, he was safe. He glanced down automatically at his right hand. The black glove he wore was snug, the prosthetic fingers in place. He felt the scar on his neck. It was knotted and dangerous, and it felt just as dangerous as it looked. A few more inches in either direction, a bit less force dulled from the blow, and Trick Shot would have killed him in that meadow outside the camp.</p><p>Lucky as sin, that was Barney Barton.</p><p>Stomach churning with self-loathing and self-recriminations, Barney downed the quarter bottle of rum that sat on the floor next to his cot, and, as it warmed him, eventually returned to sleep.</p>
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